TAKEN BY SURPRISE
“At last I’ll know where I stand, anyway,” muttered Jim to himself,
as the train sped on toward Riverside. “It wouldn’t have done a bit
of good to write to her. Her letters are so vague and unsatisfactory
these days. I must see her. Then I’ll be able to tell whether there is
anything to this story of my millionaire rival.”
He tried to make himself think that there was nothing in what Reggie
had let slip, in what Joe had reluctantly told him. Surely, they had
been mistaken. Clara, after all that had passed between them, could not
treat him so shabbily!
And yet--the thought made him frown and bite his lip fiercely--where
there was so much smoke it seemed certain there must be some fire. Long
before he had known definitely of a rival with millions who had been
besieging Clara with his attentions, he had thought he sensed a change
in her attitude toward him. Her letters had not been so regular. Once
or twice he had missed them altogether. Those that did come had left
him vaguely disappointed, unhappy. The reason for his dissatisfaction
had eluded him. Then suddenly, it had all become clear. Clara was being
won away from him by a chap with more money than he had! He clenched
his hands and his mouth became grim. At any rate he would have one
satisfaction. He would tell this fellow just what he thought of him,
and that in no uncertain terms! Perhaps the chap would give him some
excuse for thrashing him. His eyes glinted and his fists clenched.
The swift motion of the train was grateful to him. It seemed to keep
time with his hurried thoughts. But the knowledge that every mile of
ground they covered brought him nearer to Clara was more terrifying
than anything else. He thought of the last time he had boarded a train
to go to his sweetheart, and the lines about his mouth grew deeper. He
dreaded what he might find at the end of the journey.
He had expected a letter from Clara that morning, had hoped he would
get it before leaving. But, as had been the case more and more often in
the last few weeks, he had been disappointed, had been forced to start
on his trip with no word from her.
He took out a magazine and tried to read. The words were a meaningless
blur before his eyes, and he threw the magazine away from him with an
exclamation of disgust. What good was he, anyway? He could not, even
for a few moments, force his mind away from his troubles.
And so it was with a mixture of perturbation and relief that he at last
came to an alert consciousness of his surroundings, to find himself at
the next station to Riverside. He pulled himself together and prepared
to face facts. His uncertainty was nearly at an end. It seemed to him
that nothing that could happen in the future could be any worse than
what he had already been through.
Before the train had stopped at Riverside, Jim had flung himself and
his one bag on to the platform. He glanced about him quickly to assure
himself that no old acquaintances were around the place, then started
off at a brisk pace in the direction of the Matson home.
As he approached nearer his destination, he unconsciously slackened
his pace. He had sent Clara no word of his coming. That part had been
intentional. Since he was about to find out the truth, it would be far
better to take the girl by surprise than to warn her of his coming and
so give her time to prepare for it.
Perhaps, he thought bitterly, and his steps lagged still more, Clara
would not even care to deceive him with a show of affection. This
hated millionaire might even have dazzled her to the extent of a
broken engagement with him, Jim.
At the thought, new anger kindled in him, and he strode forward with
resolution. At the moment, all he cared about was a meeting with his
rival. He did not know how soon that desire was to be gratified.
A turn in the road brought him within view of the pleasant Matson
home. At the familiar sight of it, something swelled in Jim’s throat.
He had felt so a part of that household, had been so wonderfully sure
of Clara’s love. Could it be possible that all his faith had been
misplaced, all his hopes and dreams only idle and vain imaginings?
The house was coming nearer, seemed to be rushing to meet him. With
every step he dreaded more to know the secret it was hiding from him.
He had reached the gate, had swung it open noiselessly. The porch steps
invited--the steps where he and Clara had often sat in the twilight,
dreamily planning their life together. But for some reason he avoided
them.
He had no desire to see any one but Clara just then, and instinct
told him he would find her in the garden. So to the garden he turned,
hungrily drinking in the fragrance of the flowers, the ache at his
heart more poignant as each new and familiar object met his eye.
He heard voices and stopped still. One of them was Clara’s. She
was laughing lightly at some pleasantry directed to her in a deep,
masculine voice.
At the sound, Jim suddenly saw red. All the anxiety, the worry, the
heartache of the last few weeks, took toll at once. With a grumble of
wrath away down in his throat, he almost ran the remaining few feet
that hid from him the two in the garden.
Clara was sitting on a rustic bench. She wore a pretty dress of rosy
material that matched the color in her cheeks. She was looking up at a
blond giant whose attitude expressed complete devotion. The giant was
speaking in the deep, musical voice which had so infuriated Jim.
“Miss Matson, I’m going to Europe in a few days and I must know if I
have any chance at all with you. It isn’t possible for me to go on this
way----”
“Good afternoon,” said Jim, in a voice of suppressed emotion. “Sorry to
intrude.”